


Conversation With a Vampire

by Glassdarkly



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen, Gen Work, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glassdarkly/pseuds/Glassdarkly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles has an unpleasant encounter somewhere on the coast road as he makes his way to Sunnydale to take up his post as school librarian in BtVS season 1.</p><p>First posted to the Letsgetitdone challenge on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversation With a Vampire

"Mind if I sit here?"

Giles looked up, startled, a forkful of underdone steak half way to his mouth. "Er...that is..."

He glanced around. The restaurant lighting was dim, but even so he could see the place was half-empty. When he turned back, the beautiful blonde girl in the very short skirt had already installed herself in the seat opposite. 

She smiled, revealing even, white teeth. "You're British, aren't you? Cool. I _love_ your accent."

"Oh, er..." Giles set his fork down and adjusted his glasses, which had slipped down his nose. "I mean to say, thank you." 

He stared at the girl, perplexed, bordering on flummoxed. His grasp of Californian social mores was still somewhat theoretical, but she looked a bit young to be out alone this late. And was that a school uniform she was wearing? He ought to tell her to go home right this minute.

He opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat. If his Watcher training had taught him anything, it was that making the rush to judgement was foolish -even potentially fatal. Maybe she was in some kind of trouble? Certainly, her expression struck him as...well, furtive, for want of a better word.

"Is there....is there a problem, miss?" he ventured.

The glow of the small table light, which was half-drowned in melted wax, was just enough to show Giles that her eyes were hazel, more green than brown, now blinking at him with a pretence of puzzlement at odds with her rather knowing smile. 

"No problem," she said. "Why? Should there be?"

"Er..." Giles began for the third time, and winced inwardly. Of course, it was a while since he'd been accosted in this fashion by any woman, let alone a beautiful young girl, but normally, he had no difficulty formulating sentences. 

He was making himself look stupid - not to mention a complete social inadequate. 

"Not as such, no," he began."But..."

The smile grew even more dazzling. "Good. Great. Cuz I hate drinking alone. Would you mind?" 

She indicated a passing waitress with a nod of her head, and before he quite knew what he was doing, Giles had signalled the woman over. 

"Can I help you?" The waitress's sharp brown eyes went from Giles to the girl and back, the corners of her lips tightening in disapproval. Giles felt himself blush. 

_It's not what you think_ , he wanted to say, but since he didn't yet know what 'it' was himself, he smiled weakly and said nothing. 

"A margarita," the girl said to the waitress. "Make it a strong one."

The waitress regarded her, stone-faced. "I'll need to see some ID first, ma'am."

The girl's smile didn't waver, but suddenly there was a glacial quality to it. "Sure." Opening her purse, she brought out a drivers licence and waved it at the woman. "Happy now?" 

The waitress stared at the licence, pursed her lips and walked away, stiff-backed. 

"One margarita extra strong coming right up." 

Giles watched her departure, almost squirming with embarrassment. What must she think of him?  
The only bright spot in this whole fiasco was discovering that his unwanted companion was - apparently - of legal age to drink, though what age that made her, Giles was too flustered to remember. 

Turning back to the girl , he found her attention focused on the waitress with rather unnerving single-mindedness, and her smile replaced by an expression that he couldn't quite put a name to. It made her face look older, and momentarily quite ugly.

Giles frowned. Something odd was going on, but he still had no idea what, and it really was time he took charge of this situation. Perhaps a few discreet questions? 

He cleared his throat.

"So, do you..." _Don't ask her if she comes here often, you fool!_ "Er, do you live nearby, miss?"

The girl's gaze swung back to him at once. She smiled her winning smile again, which this time struck Giles as very practised.

"I'm from the next town up the coast. Sunnydale. Have you heard of it?"

"Oh." Giles winced again. As if the situation weren't embarrassing enough already. "That's where I'm going, as a matter of fact. I've taken a..a research post there." _And, appalling thought, you may even be a student at the establishment in question._

The girl's eyes widened. "That's so cool. Maybe we could meet up once you're settled in and I could show you around?" She leaned forward across the table, giving Giles a glimpse of plunging lace in the open neck of her white shirt. "Is it a date?"

"A...a...what?" Giles felt his cheeks flame. This time it was perfectly clear what was going on, even to him. Disgraceful....and no, despite the inducement, not in the least bit tempting.

"I don't think that would be appropriate, do you?" he said, in the severe tone he meant to adopt with his Slayer if she displeased him. "Your parents...."

Her eyes darkened for a moment, but then she fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I won't tell Daddy if you won't."

Giles stared at her, speechless. Then he took off his glasses. 

Polishing hard, he regarded the girl surreptitiously, to find her unblinking gaze once again fixed on their waitress, now placing her order at the bar. The odd expression was back on the girl's face, and this time, with a sudden chill, Giles recognised it. 

He cursed himself for a fool not to have remembered how close they were to the Hellmouth. 

Putting his glasses back on, he glanced to one side, but there were no mirrors and it was hard to see reflections in this dim light. His fork lay on the plate in front of him, a piece of steak still skewered on the tines. Giles picked it up. Maybe if he angled it right...

"My name's Darla." The girl held out her hand suddenly. "And you are?"

Force of habit made Giles reach out and grip the proffered hand, despite his suspicions. 

"Rupert Giles." 

Darla's grip was very firm considering how slim her wrists were, and her skin was icy cold. Giles shivered. But at least he knew for certain what he was facing now. 

In a way, it was a relief.

Darla held his hand just long enough for Giles to begin to panic and try to tug himself free, then let go abruptly and leaned back against the soft faux-leather of the seat.

"Your food's going cold," she said.

"Probably," Giles agreed. He took a swallow of his beer, very aware of Darla's green eyes, which were fixed on his throat, glittering and predatory. 

"So, Rupert - I can call you Rupert, can't I? - what do you think of California so far?"

Giles took a deep breath, to steady himself. Cutting a piece of cold, rubbery steak, he put it in his mouth and chewed, buying time. Was this a chance meeting, or did the local vampires know who he was? If so, what else did they know? 

"The climate's very pleasant," he said, at last, because he had to say something. "Very -" and he met Darla's gaze with a challenging glare -"sunny. Too sunny for you, I shouldn't wonder." 

Darla opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, their waitress returned with her drink. The glass was beaded with chill condensation, salt crusted thick around its rim. 

Darla turned her dazzling smile on the woman. "Why, thank you. It looks delicious."

Picking it up, she took a dainty sip, while the waitress, seeming taken aback to be addressed so politely this time, stammered, "You're welcome." 

She turned to go, but Darla called her back.

"Wait." 

"Ma'am?" the waitress faced them again, and now Darla was gazing at her, big-eyed.

"I just wanted to apologise for being rude earlier - "she peered at the waitress's name tag - "Anita, isn't it? It was uncalled for. You were just doing your job."

The waitress - Anita - smiled uncertainly. "I..." she began, but Darla interrupted her.

"It's tough, huh? This kind of work? The hours must be a killer."

Her voice dripped with- to Giles's ears, false - sympathy. 

"Well, yeah," Anita agreed, still sounding uncertain. Maybe the insincerity was apparent to her too. "I don't see as much of my kids as I'd like, that's for sure."

Darla smiled again- and pleasant though her expression was, it was one of the most frightening smiles Giles had ever seen. 

"You have kids?" she trilled. "How wonderful. I _love_ children."

Anita's expression softened at once. "They _are_ great kids. I'm very proud of them. My eldest is doing real well at school."

This had gone quite far enough. Any minute now, the poor woman would be showing Darla photographs. Leaning forward, Giles said, "Would you mind? This is a private conversation."

Anita dragged her eyes away from Darla with difficulty, blinked, as if coming out of a dream, then grew flustered. "I'm sorry, sir. I wouldn't.....I don't know what came over me." She retreated fast, not without a few anxious glances over her shoulder.

Darla picked up her glass again. "She has terrible teeth and stinks of cheap perfume. I wonder if she tastes of it too." 

"Leave her alone," Giles found himself saying, between gritted teeth. "Or I'll..."

Darla gave him a contemptuous look. "Oh, please. Like you could." 

Giles glared. He felt the comforting outline of the stake in his jacket pocket. 

Darla, meanwhile, took another sip of her drink. 

"So," she said, in a more conciliatory tone, "it's been years since I met a Watcher."

Giles almost jumped out of his seat. "You know? But how....? 

Too late, he took in her smug expression. She _hadn't_ known. Until now. He glared, feeling like a fool.

"Don't feel bad." Darla soothed. "We knew there was a Watcher in the area - always more to learn about the Hellmouth, huh? - and you don't exactly blend in. I thought I'd come say hello. Like I said, it's been a while since I met one of you guys."

"Really?" Giles edged the word with sarcasm. "Funnily enough, it was only a few days ago that I last met one of _you_....guys and left him a heap of dust."

Darla shrugged. "What's that to me? We don't all know each other."

"I'm aware of that," Giles growled. He shifted a little. Maybe if he kept the movements small, inched slowly to the end of the seat, he could take her by surprise.

"You're not in a hurry to leave, are you?" Darla snapped, and her eyes flashed yellow. "Because I didn't drive all the way out here for nothing. I have some questions for you first."

Giles slumped. Plan B, then. Lull her into a false sense of security, _then_ take her by surprise. "I have a question or two myself." _Such as, who is this 'we' who knew a Watcher was in the area, and what do they know about the Slayer?_

Darla smiled sweetly. "Ladies first." She leaned forward across the table, displaying her cleavage again. "Guess you must have met a great many vampires in your line of work, huh?"

Giles blinked, surprised. What sort of question was that? 

"A fair number," he admitted. "Why do you want to know?"

Darla's gaze dropped. She ran a finger around the rim of her glass and licked salt off the tip. When she met Giles's eyes again, her own had become curiously opaque. 

"I need to find someone. A particular vampire, that is. You can help me."

"I doubt it." Giles shook his head. "I also fail to see why I should give any assistance to a murderous fiend like you."

"Do you?" Darla looked amused. "Poor Rupert! I get that all that studying is a crashing bore, but is your life so dull that you don't care if you survive the night or not?"

Giles met her eyes steadily. "You're making a big assumption." _And not just about whether or not I have a death wish_. "I've killed many vampires in my time. _You_ may not survive."

Reaching into his other pocket, he brought out a small wooden crucifix, which he thrust in her direction.

"Stay back!"

Darla laughed outright this time. "That's so dumb it's almost...sweet." 

Her eyes flashed yellow again, and suddenly Giles was confronted not by a beautiful young woman, but by a hideous gargoyle of a face, complete with gleaming fangs. "If I really wanted to kill you, you think that would stop me?"

Giles quailed despite himself, but he recovered quickly. "Perhaps not. It'll hurt you, though. I'll make sure of it."

"Oh, for..." She shook away her vampire face, gazing at him once again out of green eyes that glittered with fury.

"You're being ridiculous," she snapped. "I'm stronger than you, faster than you, older than you by several centuries. You don't stand a chance."

"Even so." Giles's fingers were clutching the crucifix so tight the wood was digging into his palm. He was pleased that his voice didn't tremble.

Darla picked up her glass again and drank, eyes never leaving his.

"Okay, maybe you don't value your own life, but what about theirs?" She indicated the few remaining patrons, the bored looking staff, including Anita, who was still stealing anxious glances in their direction. What she must make of him waving a crucifix about, Giles couldn't begin to imagine. 

"What about hers?" Darla pursued. "She pissed me off earlier. If you don't help me, I'll kill her. In fact, I might kill her anyway. I'll follow her home, tear her throat out on her own front porch, get her kids to invite me in. Then I'll take the little orphan mites back to Sunnydale with me. They'll make lovely snacks for later."

"You foul..." Giles had heard enough. Dropping the crucifix, he pulled the stake out of his pocket and lunged at her across the table. But she was too quick for him. Fingers like steel bands closed around his wrist and twisted hard. He dropped the stake with a cry of pain and found his nose just inches from a mouth full of needle sharp fangs set in a face once again the very opposite of beautiful.

"See?" she hissed. 

Cursing his own stupidity, Giles shut his eyes and braced himself. Thoughts were racing around in his head, chief among them how bloody unfair it was that he should die now. He'd almost reached the pinnacle of his career, damnit. And now he would never even meet Buffy Summers, let alone get to be her Watcher. 

To his surprise, Darla let go of him suddenly, and thrust him back into his seat so hard he rebounded off the back wall of the booth. 

"I don't get why this is such a problem for you," she whined. "I just need some information, that's all." 

Giles stared at her, breathing hard. After a moment, he reached out and snatched up the crucifix, which lay on the table between them. If she went for him again, he thought, at least he still had that.

Her eyes followed the movement, and for a second or two, that fixed, predator's glare was back, but then, with a visible, effort, she shook it away, along with her vampire face, to become once again the vulnerable young girl she'd seemed on first viewing. 

"Please help me, Rupert," she begged, eyes big and dewy. "I won't hurt you, I swear." 

Giles frowned. Surely she didn't think he would succumb to her dubious charms now? He glared at her and said nothing.

Her pleading gaze searched his face for a moment longer, but then she sighed, acknowledging defeat. Opening her purse, she drew out a thick wad of dollar bills - bloodstained, Giles noticed - and placed it on the table between them. "Look, I'll even pay you."

Giles eyed the money with bewilderment. "You can't be serious. This is some trick."

"It's not," she insisted - and was that a touch of desperation in her voice? "I'll let you live - I'll let them all live -" and she gestured at the restaurant at large - "in exchange for whatever you can tell me."

Giles realised his mouth was hanging open and shut it hurriedly. This was all most peculiar. Surely, despite her promise - and what was a vampire's promise worth? - it had to be a trap. Maybe she knew more about his business here than she let on and was trying to trick him into revealing something about the Slayer?

Picking up his glass, he took a long swallow of his beer - horrid stuff, no taste to it at all, but like nectar after his recent brush with death - and gave her what he hoped was a cool smile. 

"I would have thought you people...er, you vampires, that is, would have information sources of your own. Why not use those? Why ask me at all?"

She stared at him for a long moment, smooth brow furrowed. 

"You're right," she said, at last, and with great reluctance. "We do have our own sources, but for various reasons that are none of your business, I can't access them." 

"Unfortunate for you." Giles breathed an inward sigh of relief. Unless she was lying - not unlikely - it might be he really did have something she wanted and couldn't find elsewhere.

"Unfortunate, my ass," she muttered - rather crudely, Giles thought. "My family is kind of...controlling." 

Then she bit her lip, as if afraid she'd said too much - even glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the door, like she expected this so-called family of hers to come bursting through it at any moment.

It amused Giles - in an ironic way - to think that his original assumption about her being some truant schoolgirl mightn't have been so far wrong after all. Choosing his words carefully, he said,

"You're not supposed to be here, are you?"

Her eyes flamed. "None of your damn business." 

"Sorry," Giles retreated, hurriedly. "Didn't mean to pry."

He would have to be more circumspect, he decided, if he wanted to get anything beyond mere survival out of this encounter. But a good Watcher always took advantage of every opportunity to acquire more knowledge.

Maybe she was lying, maybe not, but Darla was local to Sunnydale, and if his Slayer should ever encounter this....family, well, the more information her Watcher had about them, the better.

Giles squared his shoulders. Two could play this game. "If I'm to assist you, I'll need a name."

Darla frowned. "What are you talking about?" Then her eyes widened. "Are you saying you'll help me after all?"

Giles nodded. "I will...endeavour to do so, in exchange for the lives of all humans present. And their families," he added, just in case. "Also -" and he eyed the bloodstained money with distaste -no doubt she'd stolen it from some hapless victim -" I don't want your money."

Darla narrowed her eyes in suspicion for a moment, but then she shrugged and bundled the roll of bills back into her purse. "It's a deal." She glanced at her dainty gold wristwatch and frowned. "Just get a move on, will you? I don't have all night." 

"All right, then." Giles took a notebook and pencil out of his pocket. _Might as well do this properly_. "Who is this....er, person you're looking for?"

Darla looked away across the room. When she spoke again, there was a wistful note in her voice.

"His name's Angelus." She glanced at Giles, as if to gauge his reaction, but Giles shrugged apologetically.

"Never heard of him."

Darla looked incredulous, then resigned. "Time was, I'd have said that was unthinkable, but he dropped out of sight around the turn of the century." Her eyes met Giles's again. "They used to call him the Scourge of Europe."

Giles frowned. That did ring a very distant bell. "What else can you tell me about him?"

"What more do you need to know?" Darla was beginning to sound impatient. "He ravaged the continent in his day, from Scandinavia to the Balkans and beyond- killed thousands. You Watchers should've have been all over that, right?"

"Very likely," Giles admitted. "And the title at least is familiar. But surely it could be bestowed on quite a few vampires." 

"Not really." The wistful note was back in her voice. "No one else would dare."

Giles picked up his glass again and finished his drink. Odd though all this was, one thing was for certain; this Angelus person sounded very unpleasant, even by vampire standards, so, again, it behoved him as a Watcher, to find out as much as possible.

"Why is this man.... er, this vampire so important to you?" he asked. 

Darla glared. "That's none of your damn business either."

"I rather think it is."Giles insisted. "That is, if you mean it about wanting my help finding him. Everything you can tell me about him might be important - where you last saw him, his physical appearance. That sort of thing." 

She gazed at him, clearly exasperated, then sighed. "Oh, all right, then. I last saw him in China, during the Boxer Rebellion. Happy now?" 

At what must have been the look on his face, she laughed. "I told you I was older than you by several centuries." 

"You did," Giles agreed. It was a pity, he reflected, that vampires were ravening monsters, caring about nothing except the next meal. One might have learned a lot from them, otherwise. 

"As for his appearance," Darla went on, "he's tall, dark, handsome - all the cliches. Quite a sense of humour too- well, it might be a little dark for your taste - and cultured. Music, poetry - especially the Romantics. We shared a love of Chopin. Oh, and ballet. He loved the ballet." 

"I beg your pardon?" Giles stared at her in surprise. Vampires caring about the arts? He'd never heard of such a thing.

"Don't tell me." There was a touch of acid in Darla's tone. "You thought vampires were ravening monsters, who care about nothing except the next meal."

"Er....yes." Giles nodded, embarrassed. Was he that transparent? "And I assure you, I have plenty of practical experience that such is indeed the case." 

"Well, if you're talking the just sired, fresh out of the ground kind, you might have a point," Darla conceded. "Those of us who've been around a little longer...well, let's say, we learn to broaden our horizons." 

She picked up her glass again, smiling at him over the rim. "Immortality would be terribly dull otherwise, don't you think?"

"I suppose so," Giles muttered, in a sceptical tone. Vampires at the ballet? Whatever next? 

"So, you and this Angelus were...er, companions of some sort, were you?" he pursued. The word 'lovers', while possibly a better fit, was hardly appropriate for the bestial rutting of demons.

Darla rolled her eyes. "We were a lot more than that. Why are you Watchers so prosaic?" 

Her face grew soft with reminiscence. "We roamed the world together, he and I, living how we pleased, taking the best of everything. I made sure he was never bored, he always found me a room with a view. Then, he..." Her expression darkened. "Then something happened to him."

Thoroughly intrigued, Giles leaned forward. "Oh? What was that?"

But Darla's face had closed down again. "It's not important. What _is_ important is that because of this...thing that happened, I left him and returned to my sire's court. And now..." she gave him a troubled glance, "....well, now, I...I regret it." 

Giles stared at her, astonished. Her eyes were glistening, and was that a tear slipping down her cheek? Not to mention the way she talked about this Angelus person, one might almost think that she....

But no. That was ridiculous. Vampires were incapable of love. Everyone knew that. It must be some sort of ruse to gain his sympathy. 

He had to admit it didn't look like one, though - especially not when she buried her face in her hands and began to sob in earnest. Giles could not have been more dumbfounded if she'd sprouted wings and flown off into the night.

After a while, when her tears showed no sign of stopping any time soon, Giles took off his glasses and began polishing them for a second time, to hide his confusion. 

He put them back on, just as she let her hands drop, to reveal a face streaked with running mascara, muttered, "Oh crap!" and reached for a paper napkin. 

"Allow me." Giles put his handkerchief into her groping hand, then pretended to take a great interest in the empty parking lot while she blew her nose, fumbled in her purse and began some damage repair. 

At last, sounding more herself, she said, "I don't do laundry."

Giles gave her a cautious glance, to find her appearance once again immaculate, despite her lack of reflection. Quite remarkable.

He indicated the sopping handkerchief. "Please, keep it." 

"Thanks," she said. Then she frowned. "Tell anyone what just happened and our deal's off."

"All right." But despite the threat, Giles realised he wasn't afraid of her any more, and she seemed to know it too, because she looked distinctly rattled, as if she knew her display of weakness had shifted the balance of power.

Just as well really, as Giles wasn't sure how she would take his next bit of news.

"Getting back to business, I promised to help you and I will, but I'll need to consult my books. The Scourge of Europe rings a bell, as I said, but otherwise.....I'm at a loss."

Darla was back to staring at him with the same unnerving single mindedness she had earlier bestowed on poor Anita, but there was less of the hunter in her gaze this time - even a touch of the hunted.

"If you can't help me without consulting your books, then consult them."

"It's not as easy as all that," Giles told her. "I sent my belongings ahead. My books are in storage in Sunnydale until I can retrieve them. And no, I'm not going to tell you where." 

"But you'll still help me?" she insisted, the desperation back in her voice.

Giles nodded. "A deal is a deal."

No need to tell her that he didn't consider himself bound by a promise made to a vampire, no matter how prettily she cried.

Darla gazed at him, frown lines bitten deep between her well-shaped brows. At last, she said,

"Okay, then. You do your research and we'll meet up again in Sunnydale." 

She glanced at her watch again and peered out of the window into the parking lot. "I'd better go."

Giles looked out too, but he could see nothing untoward. The lighting around the half empty lot cast just enough illumination for him to make out the black strip of the highway, the beach beyond it, and waves breaking on the sand with a gleam of bioluminescence. He frowned. This place really was a long way from anywhere, and suddenly its isolation struck him as sinister. 

He turned back to Darla, to find her gaze hadn't shifted. Still staring out into the dark, not even blinking. That was sinister too. 

"Are you expecting company?" he asked her.

She grimaced. "I've been gone a while. They'll be looking." 

Giles shivered. That didn't sound good. "Vampire company?"

She nodded. 

Suddenly - so suddenly, he jumped - she leaned forward across the table. "Please, Rupert. Please help me find Angelus." Her eyes glistened in the dim light , and unlike earlier, she sounded nothing but human and desperate. 

"I...I..."Giles began, but suddenly, she sprang to her feet.

"I have to go."

Giles watched in bewilderment as she gathered her belongings. 

"Tell me," he said, "if I do find this Angelus for you, what will you do?" 

She paused in the act of tucking her purse under her arm. 

"If you find him," she repeated, then glared, once again attempting threat. " _When_ you find him, I'll discover some way to undo what was done to him, and he'll take me away from...from..."

Her voice petered out. She stared at Giles across the table. Again, he could almost see her asking herself whether she'd said too much. 

"Your....family?" he finished for her.

She glared. "I didn't say that."

"I'm sorry..." he began, but she was already heading towards the door, glancing into the parking lot every time she passed a window. 

Frowning, Giles looked out again, to discover that, unseen by him, a large, black car had drawn into the lot and stopped under a streetlamp. There was something very unnerving about the way it just sat there, engine idling, the darkened window glass hiding its occupants, and Giles's stomach lurched.

But despite that, "Wait!" Giles heard himself calling, much to his own astonishment, as he hurried after Darla. He still had one very important question to ask. 

"You said you knew there was a Watcher in the area. These people out there....who are they looking for? Me, or you?"

She turned in the open door. "Believe me, Rupert, if anyone gets out of that car, every human in this place will die. Since I promised you I'd spare them, it's best I stop that happening."

She slid through the door. "Don't worry. I'll throw them off your trail."

"How will I find you again?" Giles called after her. 

She looked back over her shoulder, eyes measuring and cold. All demon. "Don't worry. I'll find you."

 _Not bloody likely_ , Giles thought. He watched the restaurant door swing shut behind her, then retreated to his table and peered out into the parking lot, to see Darla - looking suddenly a great deal less confident -approach the big car, which still hulked under the streetlamp, engine running. The driver's side window wound down and he saw her speak to the driver.

A moment later, the rear door flew open, and a huge brute of a man erupted from the car's interior, grabbed Darla by the arm and slapped her so hard across the face she staggered and would have fallen if the giant hadn't been holding on to her. 

Giles had sprung to his feet in outrage, before he remembered that only minutes ago, Darla had been threatening to murder innocent women and children. It was too late anyway. The brute had bundled her into the car, which exited the parking lot with a screech of overheated tyres. 

It was only when the sound had faded into silence that Giles realised he was trembling uncontrollably. 

He flopped back into his seat and put his face in his hands, only to jump almost out of his skin when Anita addressed him. He hadn't heard her approach.

"Everything all right, sir?" She was very pale under her tan skin.

Giles forced himself to smile at her. "It is now. Yes."

Anita shuddered. "And she's really gone?"

"Er...yes," Giles replied, a little non-plussed. What was she getting at? "Her...er, relatives came to collect her."

Anita breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good. We don't get many vamps way out here. Too remote for 'em. Not enough to eat. Mostly, they stick real close to the Hellmouth." 

Giles gaped at her, lost for words again, which kept happening this evening. "I...I..."

Anita only smiled and picked up his glass. "I'll fetch you another beer."

"I don't..." Giles stammered again, but she was already walking away.

"You saved us all," she said. "It's on the house."

Suddenly, Giles realised that every eye in the place - staff, customers - was on him. 

"Good on you, man," someone said, and a round of applause broke out. There were even a few appreciative whoops.

Embarrassed, Giles ducked his head. "Oh...er, don't mention it."

He stared out into the parking lot until the applause died down and the faint hum of conversation from the other tables resumed.

This evening hadn't been what he'd expected, in any way, shape or form. For one thing, Watcher training didn't lend itself to holding long conversations with vampires.

Still, gratifying to know he'd risen to the challenge, and after this, coping with his Slayer should be no problem at all.


End file.
